


FWTST Extras

by MeekoMyachi



Series: FWTST Universe [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Deaf Frisk, Deleted Scenes, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Frisk Uses Sign Language, Post-Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Suggestions and Requests, extra chapters, more tags to come, probably some smut later on, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeekoMyachi/pseuds/MeekoMyachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles, extra chapters, deleted scenes, and your requests from <strong>For Whom the Skel Tolls</strong><br/>Please don't read these without reading FWTST first! They won't make any sense.<br/>Sometimes people request things. Those will end up here.<br/>Rated explicit because I said so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nice Cream (Chapter 3 Sans POV)

Sans watches the clock above the TV in his living room as the seconds slowly tick by. One. By. One. He's been slumped on the couch with his feet almost touching the ground for... Well, he forgets how long he's been here, or if he's fallen asleep at all. It's probably been a few hours. He checks his phone. The last text he received was from you, around seven-thirty this morning. It's almost two-thirty in the afternoon now. He retraces the events of the day.

He got up ridiculously early to say goodbye to Papyrus before he left for work. He left and went straight to Toriel and Asgore's so that he could get an early start on whatever work he had to do with the king for the day. The sooner he was done, the better, because he still had that afternoon job to get taken care of. 

Oh. Speaking of.

He sits up and stretches his arms over his head, exhaling with satisfaction when he drops them. His shift is supposed to start in a couple of minutes. He could still wait. He still had time. It's not like he couldn't just take a shortcut. 

You had mentioned a career day, and he finds it a little odd that career day and field day at Frisk's school were shoved into the same day. It was weird that field day was this early on -- it was March, and the days were still somewhat chilly. He shrugs. Today is kind of hot, though. Close enough. It's not like he's entirely sure how the surface functions.

Not in this timeline.

One minute until his shift. He stands and rolls his shoulders a little. Thirty seconds. He focuses, feeling the magic gathering around him, and then he blinks. A millisecond of darkness, and then he's at the school, in front of the Nice Cream stand. Staring directly into his sockets with an expression that reads both surprise and relief is...

You.

He scrambles for something to say. He wasn't expecting you to be here. Well, he kind of guessed you might be -- you DID work here, after all -- but he didn't think it would be during his shift. It's not that he has a problem with seeing you at all. No, he has no problem with it at all. 

It's just that you make him kind of nervous. He's never met someone like you before. You're not predictable. 

Your clothes are also soaking wet and you look a little less than amused about it. He could probably fix that.

He puts on a lazy grin. "oh, hey. didn't know the school had a water park."

You snort, and your expression shifts slightly. "Undyne and water don't mix well, which is kind of funny." you tell him. "She's kind of a fish."

Oh. He hadn't noticed Undyne at all. She's standing slightly behind you, Frisk right beside her. The child waves and he winks, holding out two popsicles for them.

"HEY," Undyne growls, looking in your direction with an air of affection while she takes the frozen treats from his hand. She seems to be getting along with you. That's good. That's what he had hoped for. 

He lets his grin grow as he gets an idea. He's going to see if he could make you laugh. At Undyne's expense, of course.

"must'a been some _fin_ of a bad experience," he drawls, looking back to you. Your mouth twists into a smile that's hiding a laugh. He continues. "that experience couldn't have gone _swimmingly_."

"Sans, shut up." Undyne turns her attention to him, her one visible eye filled with malice. Definitely not the same tone she had just used with you. 

Fuel for the fire.

"the way you're behavin' is a little _fishy_ , undyne," he ventures. "is everything ok?"

That totally destroys Undyne. "NGGAHHHH! Come on, Frisk!" 

Sans watches as she drags Frisk away to sit under a shady tree. She's clearly not taking his shit today.

That's no fun.

What _is_ fun is the fact that you've dissolved into a fit of giggles, your hand over your mouth as you try to calm yourself down. There aren't quite tears pricking the corners of your eyes, but with a couple more puns, he thinks he could have gotten you to cry from laughing so hard. He takes out another popsicle at random and hands it to you. He notices its color after you've taken it from him.

Oh.

"didn't know you liked puns," he tries, averting his gaze slightly to look just past you.

"I've been known to let one slip once in a while," you tell him. 

The two of you fall into silence. He's at a loss for words, and he can't trust himself to look at you right now. It's not-- no. He shouldn't be having these thoughts and he knows it. It's dirty and lewd and you're Frisk's fucking translator, for Christ's sake, and he needs to stop this right now. He hands popsicles to a couple more kids that walk up, ignoring the dirty looks he gets from their parents. 

It's just the idea of it. It's been a little while. He's pent up. That's all it is.

Yeah.

He rests his chin in his palm and waits a second longer before he chances a glance at you. You haven't even lifted the popsicle, and you're busy staring after the children that have just walked away. The sun is hot. You're standing in the sun. You have a frozen blue popsicle that isn't going to be frozen for much longer if you continue to stand in the sun not eating it.

"you know, it's gonna melt if you don't eat it," he says before he can stop himself.

"When are you going to let Papyrus have me over?" you ask immediately, totally ignoring his comment. He looks down at the hand holding the popsicle again.

It's starting to melt. It's dripping on your finger and he has to force himself to look away.

"He keeps saying that you won't let him," you finish.

He shifts his weight between his legs and grunts, "uh. eventually."

"Eventually," you echo, almost thoughtfully. "I'll pretend that means sometime soon."

Thoroughly japed by Frisk's translator. Papyrus would be proud of you.

Sans can't help it when the lights in his sockets dart between your face and the popsicle. It's _melting_. You need to eat it. You're going to eventually, and he knows it. He's filled with anticipation and he's not sure why because he hasn't known you for very long, and you're _Frisk's translator_ , and one really shouldn't be thinking about this sort of thing when the object of the objectification works with a kid that they take care of. 

He's objectifying you. That's all it is. It has nothing to do with the fact that your laugh is kind of cute and you have a decent sense of humor and a sense of justice and you're pretty easy on the eyes. He's objectifying you and that's wrong. He _needs_ to think of a way out. Another fish pun? Some kind of pun that will--

You make eye contact with him, and he freezes. Shit. He's been found out. He can feel his cheekbones start to heat. He watches you as you slowly lift your hand up to your mouth, licking the melted popsicle from your finger before putting the popsicle itself in your mouth. You don't do anything that can be remotely considered sexual. You just... hold it there.

His face is _burning_ , and he knows that it must be darker than his hoodie by now. 

You turn and walk away, raising your hand in a lazy wave as you do.

"oh fuck ok," he hisses quietly, immediately ashamed of himself.

Your back straightens and you walk with a little more sway in your hips. You heard him and it made you confident. You did that on _purpose_. You _knew_ what he was thinking and you took advantage of it. You little shit.

Still, he watches you settle into the grass with Undyne and Frisk, and all he can do now is patiently wait out the rest of his shift.

As soon as he's able to, he blinks and watches the world shift into his bedroom. Fuck. He hadn't considered that as a possibility; if anything, you seem much too awkward to do something like that. You seem like you would be the cute little dweeb of your friend group, and not at all the type to openly tease someone with a popsicle _at an elementary school_.

He flops onto his bed and groans. He'll have to face you again sometime soon and he knows it. You're Papyrus' favorite person right now outside of himself, and his younger brother will eventually get his way and have you over for dinner. Or Toriel will invite you. Or you'll run into each other in public somehow.

Still, he feels a tugging sensation in his soul. It's been a long time since he's felt something like that, and he's almost panicking. 

Last time he had this feeling, everything got ripped away from him, and he wound up at the beginning.

You're different. You're unpredictable. You're something weird and special and he doesn't want to lose you, even though you're nothing more than a friend. 

He feels this way, and he hasn't even looked for your soul yet. He doesn't know what color it is. He doesn't know what your intent is. But he can feel something radiating off of you -- something without a name that feels _right_ and safe, and it makes him feel so much better about you watching over Frisk most days of the week. It makes him feel better about you and Papyrus being such close friends after such a short amount of time.

He can feel something radiating off of you, and it makes him feel so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!  
> Sans' POV from the end of Chapter 3.  
> Requested by Punny+Fan here on Ao3, AKA the person who called me "Boss".  
> I'm your boss now.  
> I also may have used this as an excuse to expand on what "type" of Sans I'm using in this fic??? Because some people make it so he has no memory of any other timeline, but my personal headcanon is that he remembers bits and pieces, like the important stuff.  
> Suggestions/ideas/requests are taken both here and in the ask box on my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	2. Pity (Chapter 9 Sans POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out that it's more of an art gallery than a museum.

It happened just like in the stories. Skeleton goes out after a long day of working a billion jobs, decides to head to his favorite bar. Skeleton is greeted by all of the patrons, takes his usual spot at the bar. Decides to chat up the hot (heh) bartender. Hot bartender doesn’t say much, but brings him a bottle of ketchup and urges him to pay his tab. Skeleton makes a pun about fire and offers a wink, bartender shakes his head and walks away. Everyone else within earshot thinks it’s funny, though. They laugh. Skeleton feels okay. 

The seat next to him at the bar is suddenly filled by a pretty human girl in a skimpy dress. Skeleton recognizes her but doesn’t know her name. He just knows that she flirts with him. A lot. She knows his. She talks to him a little bit. She’s already drunk, already too happy and too eager to laugh at his jokes. She writes her phone number on a napkin. Asks him to text her and set up a date sometime. Skeleton shrugs and says maybe, if he has time. He  _ does _ have a billion jobs to worry about. She laughs. He pockets the napkin and heads home after telling the bartender to put it on his tab. Bartender tells him to  _ pay your fucking tab, Sans.  _

That leads him to now. 

Sans lays on the couch, holding the napkin above his face and trying to figure out what to do. He could text her and say he’s not interested. She probably doesn’t even remember giving him her phone number. She might freak out if he contacts her. On the other hand, he could probably ignore it and throw the number away. She might not remember. If she does, though, she might ask him about it the next time they run into each other. That could be tomorrow night, for all he knows. 

He just wants to get this figured out before Papyrus - you know, Master Romancer Papyrus - comes home and asks him why he’s staring at a napkin on the couch and why he hasn’t picked up his sock yet. Papyrus is relentless. He’ll pester and guess and annoy until he finds out exactly what’s going on, because he knows that his older brother ultimately can’t say no to him. He’ll try to help out for sure, and Sans isn’t sure how he feels about that. This is a situation he wants to avoid more than most others, but he doesn’t think that he can get out of this… date. He rolls so that he’s face-down and tries hard not to scream into the cushion. Try harder. Good.

The door opens swiftly, marking the return of his energetic younger brother. Sans makes a point to start snoring. 

“BROTHER, I HAVE RETURNED,” Papyrus announces. “WHY HAVEN’T YOU PICKED UP YOUR SOCK YET?”

Sans continues snoring, using his position to hide his growing grin. 

“SANS? I KNOW YOU ARE NOT SLEEPING.”

Snore. 

“SANS. IF YOU WERE SLEEPING IT WOULD NOT BE IN SUCH A POSITION. ALSO YOU DO NOT SNORE LIKE THAT WHEN YOU ARE TRULY SLEEPING. IT’S A MUCH DIFFERENT SOUND.”

Sans turns onto his side and looks up at his brother, amused. “how can you even tell the difference?” he asks. 

“I HAVE KNOWN YOU LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW ALL OF YOUR HABITS, BROTHER. LIKE THIS ONE, FOR EXAMPLE.” He points to the sock laid gently on the floor. “WHY DO YOU NEVER PICK UP YOUR SOCK?”

“it likes it there, paps, we’ve been over this.” 

“THAT IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE REASON. THE SOCK IS NOT A LIVING THING, THEREFORE IT DOES NOT HAVE NEEDS AND WANTS AND LIKES. PICK UP THE SOCK.”

“rocky isn’t alive and you still feed him sprinkles,” Sans points out. 

“ROCKY IS A DIFFERENT CASE. HE IS A PET.”

“maybe that sock is my pet, too.” 

“SANS.” Papyrus sighs, rubbing the space between his eye sockets. “WHAT HAS YOU SO UPSET, BROTHER? AND DO NOT TELL ME THAT NOTHING'S THE MATTER.”

“nothing's the matter.” 

“SANS.”

“if i tell you, will ya promise to keep out of it?” 

“AN ODD REQUEST FROM YOU, BUT OF COURSE.” Papyrus takes a seat on the couch next to his brother. Sans adjusts himself so he’s sitting up with one foot in his brother’s lap.

“i got asked on a date,” he says honestly. “some girl that goes to grillby’s all the time. gave me her number, she told me to text her. i don’t wanna go, but i don’t know what to do.”

“REMEMBER THE TIME THAT I WENT ON THE PITY DATE WITH FRISK?” The younger of the two gives his brother a small smile. “MAYBE YOU COULD TREAT THIS AS SUCH? IT WOULD PLACATE HER, AND MAYBE SHE WILL LEAVE YOU ALONE. BESIDES, IT MAY BE FUN.”

“i think… you’re probably right, bro. i think i’ll do it.”

Papyrus hums, deep in thought for a moment. “INTERESTING. YOU, DOING SOMETHING OTHER THAN NOTHING? NYEH, I SHOULD MARK THIS ON THE CALENDAR.”

“please don’t.”

“AT LEAST LET ME DRESS YOU,” the taller brother insists. “THEN IT WILL LOOK LIKE YOU CARE A LITTLE BIT MORE THAN YOU DO.”

He removes Sans’ foot from his lap and stands again, heading towards the kitchen. He pauses and looks back for a moment, a worried expression on his face. 

“BROTHER, I AM PROUD OF YOU,” he says. “I DO WISH YOU WERE NOT SO UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT, THOUGH. IF IT TURNS OUT TO BE ENJOYABLE FOR YOU, THEN MAYBE YOU WILL BE OPEN TO DOING MORE THINGS.”

“that’s a longshot, bro,” Sans replies quietly once Papyrus starts walking away again.

He swears he can hear his brother mutter an “I know” from the other room.

Papyrus did a pretty good job dressing him. It’s as simple as a white button-up and some slacks, plus Sans’ choice of Chuck Taylors (which he actually went as far as to tie). Papyrus tried to convince him to wear a tie, but after a considerable amount of time trying to explain that Sans really doesn’t think that his date would care, he got out of the house with the first couple of buttons undone. Now here he is, about seven-thirty, standing in front of the museum that she had suggested. Even though it’s a little chilly, Sans finds himself rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and shoving his hands as deep into the slacks’ pockets as he can. She’s late. Not by much, but she’s late, and he really doesn’t want to be out any longer than he really has to be. 

Ah, there she is. She walks over in a short, tight black dress, wearing an expression that means she’s either drunk or very uncomfortable. She seems to relax when he notices her, though.

“Hi, Sans,” she says, almost a bit sheepish.

“hey, pal,” he replies, shifting his stance a little bit. “you ready to have a skele _ ton _ of fun?” 

Normally, Sans would be satisfied with any laugh or reaction he got after a bad pun, but this one… Too loud, too hard. It’s forced. It wasn’t even that good of a joke, it was just something to get the ball rolling in the right direction. A failed attempt. He forces his grin to stay on his face as she squeals, “Oh, Sansy, you’re too much!”

She’s too much. This whole situation is too much. Oh stars, he wants out. 

He jerks his thumb back at the entrance of the museum. “really, you ready?”

She nods, and he turns to lead her in. He can feel her nails scraping against his scapula, which wouldn’t be too bad of a sensation if he knew her a little better. 

Something just isn’t sitting with him right.

He busies himself looking at the art pieces hanging on the walls in the first room. Most of it is stuff done by local artists, which he thinks is pretty cool. A lot of them are new, some labelled as monster-created works. 

It’s not so much of a museum as it is an art gallery, he figures. 

His date, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be taking time to take in any of the exhibits at all. No, she’s talking. She’s taking advantage of the fairly noisy area and she’s talking about anything and everything that has to do with herself. Sans does his best to tune her out and look like he’s listening at the same time. They make a round through the whole gallery before she sidles in closer to him and groans.

“Sansy, I’m bored with this now,” she whines. Sans looks over at her.  "Let's just go get drinks somewhere, yeah? We could have  _ so much more fun _ with that."

Sans makes an non-committal noise and shrugs. “yeah, i s’pose.”

He lets her lead him out of the gallery, and he’s almost disappointed that he didn’t get to look around a little more. He’s not necessarily much of an art buff, but it’s… pleasing to look at. He makes a mental note to come back sometime, maybe even with someone that might appreciate it a little more. Maybe. 

She continues talking - never ceasing - until they reach Grillby’s. Of course it’s Grillby’s. Sans doesn’t think that she ever goes anywhere else. He’s a little thankful that he let Papyrus talk him into this so easily; if he hadn’t, then he probably would have had to listen to her complain the next time he went. She takes him up to the bar, and he takes his normal seat at the end.

Grillby gives him a questioning look as he wipes down a glass, but Sans just shrugs and grins. The bartender flares a little bit, just enough that Sans notices, but remains silent. He knows that the skeleton isn’t having any fun. 

“Sansy, are you even listening?” the woman asks after a moment, brushing her fingertips against his  shoulder. “I asked you a question. Or is that bartender too distracting for you? Should we grab a booth?” 

“yeah, no, grillbz is pretty hot, sorry. hard not to look at ‘im.” 

He watches her face darken a little before it twists and she laughs. Still forced. She’s not even trying to make it seem genuine. Sans wonders briefly if she was put up to this. He’s distracted by a few stray embers landing near his arm. Grillby heard him. 

“Be more… creative,” the bartender crackles.

“Oh, he talks,” she says in wonder, suddenly distracted. Sans hopes she stays that way, lest she repeat her question and expect an answer. 

She’s further distracted by someone familiar coming over and placing his hands on the bar next to her. Judging by the smell of cigarette smoke and the dark hood pulled over his head, Sans already knows who it is. He’s here far too often.

“Grillby! Three waters, a beer, and a cup ‘a the good stuff, yeah? You know where I am.” 

Grillby nods in his direction, and he moves away after taking a long, hard look at Sans. Nolan, that’s his name. He doesn’t seem too happy, but he brightens as he slips back into the booth not too far away. Sans can see your other friend - Kendra? - but not anyone else in the booth. He figures there has to be more based on what he just ordered. 

It doesn’t take long for Grillby to usher Nolan’s order out from behind the bar, and Sans is forced to turn his attention back to the woman he reluctantly calls his “date”. He should really ask what her name is.

He opens his mouth to try, but is cut off by her tracing his radius, just below where his sleeves end. She blinks up at him and gives him a sly smile. 

“About my question earlier,” she breathes, tracing her way down to his hand.

“yeah?” 

Her fingertips slide back up to his shoulder, where they linger for a moment. “I asked you if you had ever, you know, done  _ things _ with a human before.”

Oh. 

“i’ve gone to a zoo with a human before,” he says, shoving his discomfort down and doing what he can to remain nonchalant. “i’ve watched a movie with a human before. i also gave ice cream to a human once, that was fun.”

“I know you’re not that dense,” she says quietly, moving her hand around so that her fingernails scrape against his vertebrae. He almost shudders.

Nope. Sans backs out a little (enough for her to remove her hand) and holds up a hand, grinning nervously. “those are, uh, off limits, pal,” he says, giving her a wink. “saved for a special someone.”

“Sans, come on. What do I have to do to get you to--”

Grillby drops a drink in front of her, lingering long enough to flare and send a couple of embers her way. She flinches back and glares at him, but he just tilts his head at Sans. The skeleton makes a mental note to thank him later. 

“way more than you think you do, bud,” he says. “monsters don’t normally do that shit for fun.”

“You’d be surprised how many do,” she mutters. 

Sans turns in his seat to face her, propping his elbow on the bar and resting his jaw in his hand. He gives her a grin and raises a brow. 

“really? and what about me struck me as that kind ‘a monster?” 

He flicks his eyes over towards the booth Nolan had disappeared into. There’s a little bit of noise coming from there, which isn’t uncommon at Grillby’s, but it’s different. Familiar? Whatever. He turns his attention back to his date.

Wait. 

He looks back over. There, standing next to a concerned-looking Kendra, is you. Looking right at him. A little red in the face and looking almost… scared? Your lips move, barely, as if you’re ushering a whisper. He lets his forced expression fall, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

Somehow, he didn’t want you to know about what he was doing tonight.

He ignores his date, who is desperately trying to get his attention by poking and prodding at him, and instead watches you start to move towards the front doors of the establishment. A bony hand reaches out and wraps around your wrist, and attached to the other end of that arm is his one and only brother. Weird, considering Papyrus hates coming to Grillby’s. You say something to him, tensing and pulling your arm gently, but not quite hard enough to get Papyrus to release you. Before you can turn again, Undyne is standing in the booth, between you and Papyrus. 

Ah, Christ. The entire cavalry is here. 

You repeat whatever you said after Undyne speaks, then look back to him. You must be spooked by seeing Sans about to stand, because you yank your arm from Papyrus’ grip and rush from the building. Kendra moves to follow you, but Nolan appears from his seat and places a hand on her shoulder. He looks over at Sans.

“Well, Skellington?” he says. 

Sans is already standing and walking past him, though. He doesn’t need your friend to tell him to go take care of things. Besides, it’s an excuse to get away from the woman trying to inch her way towards the waistline of his slacks. He heads out into the cool evening air, met by the sunset and the sight of you leaning against the brick wall next to the door, face tilted to the sky, highlighted by the light coming through the window on your other side. You don’t seem to notice him right away. It gives him time to think up something to release the tension in your shoulders as opposed to thinking about the way you look right now.

He thinks of one. It’s bad, but he figures it might work. “wanna know why grillby decided to be a bartender?”

He slips his hands in his pockets and is trying to gauge your mood based on you much you just jumped. You  _ really _ weren’t paying attention. That’s fine, he figures. You look at him expectantly. Right, the punchline.

“because he gets to call all the shots.” He cringes a little. “sorry, that was bad.”

“Very,” you breathe. 

He starts to place another grin on his face, but he can’t make himself do it. Not with that look on your face. He shuffles a bit before looking at you again with a sigh.

“you doin’ okay? it’s not like you to run from my brother like that.”

“It felt like everyone was staring at me,” you tell him. 

As far as he knows, it wasn’t everyone. Just him. Then again, he wasn’t really focusing on anything else. He tells you that. You flush and look back to the sky. Sans moves to your other side and positions himself against the brick between you and the window. Even with the small distance between the two of you, he can feel how warm you are.

“You look nice,” you say, embarrassment evident in your voice. 

Sans chuckles. "paps insisted that i dress up, even though it was a pity date." You make a face, your nose scrunched and brows furrowed, suddenly tense again. He pushes his fist against your arm. "hey, don't take it so personally. if you want, i'll go on a pity date with you, too."

You don’t seem to think that’s as funny as he does. You groan and tell him as such. 

"you're right. it'd probably be more of a friendship date with you," he says. "since, you know, you're not a stranger. i don't let strangers sleep on my couch."

He gives you a slow wink when you look back down. You give him a hard look before drawing in a breath to speak.

“Why’d you follow me out?” you ask. 

He hadn’t prepared an explanation for that. He can’t just tell you that he’s using you as an excuse to get away from the situation he had gotten himself into. That would only be half true. He’s never really seen you upset before, and with the way you looked at him, he couldn’t help but feel like it had something to do with him. 

“I mean, it’s rude to leave your date,” you finish quickly when he doesn’t respond right away.

You were worried about the date? Why would you be--

Oh.

He shrugs and looks away from you, a little stricken by his realization. Silly humans and their tendency to become attached. This wouldn’t be the first timeline where this happened.

“dunno. seemed more important to make sure you were ok.”

Both of you fall into silence. Sans watches you stare at your feet, then watches your head jerk to the side when the door to Grillby’s swings open rather violently. Papyrus places him in front of the two of you, huffing and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Nolan follows him out - actually, it’s a little more like chasing. He must have been trying to keep Papyrus from interrupting.

“BROTHER, I DID NOT MEAN FOR THE HUMAN TO GET SO UPSET, BELIEVE ME,” he starts, desperately trying to explain himself. “UNDYNE AND I THOUGHT THAT FOLLOWING YOU WOULD--”

Sans sputters and stares at his brother. “you followed me?”

“UM, YES.” He straightens himself and breaks into a small, nervous sweat. “A-ANYWAYS, WE DID NOT THINK THAT SHE WOULD GET SO UPSET BY SEEING YOU ON YOUR PITY DATE. SHE HAS BEEN VERY TENSE ALL EVENING.”

That almost drives the point of his realization home. 

“That’s enough, bud,” Nolan says quietly, placing a hand on Papyrus’ shoulder. 

You’re practically bouncing in place, ready to get a word in. Sans can see the light shift behind your eyes as you decide to take advantage of Papyrus’ momentary silence. “I-it’s just not a normal thing for people to follow other people while they’re on dates. I was just a bit uncomfortable with it. Dates are usually a private thing.”

"I KNEW THAT," Papyrus says. "I JUST THOUGHT THAT MAYBE YOU'D BE ABLE TO SEE MORE OF WHAT MY BROTHER IS LIKE WHEN HE'S NOT TELLING TERRIBLE JOKES. ALSO UNDYNE WOULD NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER."

“DON’T BRING ME INTO THIS!” Undyne bellows from inside the building. Sans can see her silhouette in the window, as well as Kendra’s. He sighs and looks back at his brother. 

He hates scolding him, but sometimes, it has to be done. How else is Papyrus going to learn limits?

"pap, i'm all for bein' friends with her, but i don't think that's the right way to go about it. i don't mind being followed around, but if she was uncomfortable, you shouldn't have made her do it." When Papyrus looks down in defeat, Sans lowers his tone to something a little kinder. “why don’t you leave her and i out here alone for a minute so we can talk?”

Papyrus nods and heads back into Grillby’s followed closely by Nolan (after, of course, he offers you comfort in the form of a smile and a thumbs up). He obnoxiously yells a declaration of his knowledge on how to raise the tall skeleton’s spirits, and the door chimes as it nearly slams shut. Grillby won’t like how roughly he’s treating the door. 

“You know,” you start, “with the way Papyrus talks, I was thinking you’d be cracking awful jokes all the time. I only get to hear them once in a while.”

“ _ tibia  _ honest, it’s because i can’t tell what you would find  _ humerus _ ,” he says, smiling over at you. You bite back a laugh, only letting a snort escape through the hand that covers your mouth.

“Bone puns? Really? Surely you’ve got better than that.”

“i’ve got a skele _ ton _ of those ones, though,” he says, feeling better about the whole situation when you let yourself laugh at that. He readies himself for another pun, and boy, if you thought that last one was funny, you’ll really love this one.

You holding up your hand stops him in his tracks. You pull your sleeves down over your hands and cross you arms, and Sans can’t tell if it’s because of the anxiety that’s crossed your form or the cold wind that just passed through. 

“Sans, I… I’m really sorry. It wasn’t an okay thing for me to do, following you around all night.” You shift your gaze away from him. “It’s even worse that I dragged you away from her like this. If you wanted to head back in, I’d understand.”

You really feel bad about it, he can feel it. He can feel your Soul fluttering nervously without having to look for it, without having to see it. He can’t help but grin at your sincerity. 

“i already told you, it’s more important to me to make sure that my friend is ok than it is to entertain a stranger,” he tells you, nudging you when you remain silent. “not to mention that i was kinda lookin’ for a way outta the date probably the entire time.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “She did seem kind of atrocious.”

“can’t stand people that only talk about themselves,” he admits. At least he doesn’t have to worry about you doing that, he doesn’t think. 

“You looked so comfortable, though.”

That almost catches him off guard. He shrugs the weird feeling away. “if there’s one thing i’m good at, it’s looking like i’m comfortable when i’m not.” Your face falls a little, and you train your gaze back to your feet, rendering Sans incapable of holding in his laughter. “hey, kid, don’t look so down. i’m not pretending right now, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

After a brief moment of studying his face, you tilt your chin back to the sky. The stars are starting to come out - at least, the ones that can be seen through the city lights. Sans prefers the view from the coast. 

“I’m not pretending, either,” you say in a hushed tone, like it’s a secret. 

“no?” 

“No. I’m perfectly comfortable, too. Just like this.”

He can’t help but feel like that statement might be a little more loaded than it sounds, considering that there’s a high chance that you--

Now’s not the time to think about that.

He falls into silence after sighing, looking at the street ahead of him, looking at the ground, over to your shoes, then up to your face. Illuminated by the street light, with the reflections of the few stars in your eyes, he can’t deny that you’re pretty nice to look at. The door chimes, breaking his train of thought that had just started to take off and announcing the arrival of the, as he had thought of them earlier, calvary. 

Kendra jangles her keys, and while Sans is still trying to come back to reality, she speaks, mentioning something about taking Papyrus home. He’s okay with that. She seems pretty trustworthy. He knows she doesn’t really drink when she comes to Grillby’s.

“Do you want a ride too, Sans?” she asks just as he snaps back. He shakes his head.

“nah. i gotta head back alone anyways. i’ll go ahead and drop her off at home, too.” He nudges your side with his elbow again, and you cut a look into him before looking back to your friends.

“Suit yourself,” Nolan says.

Papyrus inhales to speak, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and accepting a comforting arm rub from Nolan. “I HOPE I HAVE NOT RUINED YOUR FRIENDSHIP.”

“Everything’s fine, Paps,” you say soothingly, and Papyrus seems to calm a little. Still, he looks to Sans for reassurance that only a brother can give. 

“GOOD,” Undyne barks before he can speak. “You nerds caused Papyrus a lot of worry. He thinks you’re mad at him.”

“i could never be mad at my cool bro,” Sans says for the millionth time. Papyrus relaxes completely. 

“I don’t think anyone could be mad at someone as cool as you,” you add.

Sans is suddenly thankful that you understand that sometimes, Papyrus just needs his ego stroked a little to keep him happy. He frets far too much as it is, and if he’s receiving support from his newest friend, then that means that Sans doesn’t have so much to worry about. He watches his brother’s face brighten. 

“WELL THEN, I SUPPOSE YOU TWO ARE RIGHT! I’LL SEE YOU AT HOME, BROTHER. GOODNIGHT, HUMAN.”

Everyone exchanges goodbyes, soon leaving Sans alone with you once more. You smirk as you look back to him.

“So eager to take me home,” you say teasingly. 

“i figure i owe ya that much, for starin’ at ya like that.” He winks at you, earning an eye roll. 

“Now, are we walking, driving, or teleporting?” you ask.

It’s a fair question.

He grins and pulls you into the alleyway beside Grillby’s once there’s no passerby to witness the potentially suspicious act; Sans isn’t about to get shit for teleporting in public from Toriel, and he’s not about to get shit from humans for taking a human girl into a dark alley. He gives you no warning before pulling you into his side and focusing on the location of your apartment. When he blinks, there’s a burst, and you’re stumbling slightly away from him, grinning at him from the comfort of your living room. 

“The more I do that, the more fun it is,” you tell him.

The normal disorientation that people tend to feel must be wearing off. Interesting.

“heh. you’re a weird human.” He leans over the back of your couch to pet your cat, watching him happily butt his head into the bony hand. 

You watch him for a moment before sitting on the couch, stealing the cat’s attention. 

“Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something? It’s not like you have to drive home,” you suggest. 

Sans stops petting the cat, who promptly moves into your lap to receive attention. Staying for a movie would be nice. It’d be fun, actually. The two of you don’t really hang out alone. Though… Papyrus will be expecting him home in a couple of hours, which leaves ample time to watch a movie, but he’s got a… feeling that he needs to sort out.

“not tonight,” he says. “paps gets pretty cranky without his bedtime story.”

“Suit yourself.”

He needs to leave it at that. “i’ll see ya later, pal.”

You look back at him as he steps away from the couch. He gives you one more wink before he disappears.

Back to Grillby’s.

He takes his spot at the bar and is immediately handed a bottle of ketchup. He texts Papyrus and tells him he’ll be a little late, something came up that he needs to take care of. Another shitty excuse that he knows his brother will see through, but Papyrus still replies with an “OKAY BROTHER, DO NOT BE TOO LONG AND PLEASE BE SAFE” text. Sans waits. And waits. And waits a little longer until Grillby shuts down the bar, standing by the front door until everyone but the small skeleton leaves. He picks up a glass to wipe and tilts his head. 

“What this time?” he asks in a quiet crackle. 

“grillbz, i don’t like this feeling i’ve got,” Sans says quietly, dipping his head down into his arms, which are crossed on the bartop. “that human girl i chased after? somethin’ about her is makin’ me… i dunno.”

Grillby chuckles.

“don’t laugh at me, bud, i’m serious,” Sans complains. “what if all of this gets… ripped away from me? like everythin’ else?”

Grillby stands in thought for a moment. Sans never tried to explain timelines and resets to him, never tried to make the man that could easily pass as his best friend understand exactly what he’s going through. 

“Fight to get it back,” the fire elemental says thoughtfully. “You should… go home. Papyrus will worry.”

“i know he will.” Sans sighs and pushes away the empty bottle of ketchup in front of him. Grillby picks it up and disposes of it. “i’ll see ya later, then.”

He makes it almost to the door, knowing that it’s late enough that there will be no one to witness him teleporting, before Grillby stops him.

“Sans,” he calls, though his voice is still quiet. “Your tab.”

“you know i’m good for it,” Sans replies vaguely, waving one hand in the air dismissively. 

Grillby hums, and Sans leaves the bar. Just… fight to get it back, huh?

Sans chuckles darkly. If only it were that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up longer than most of my regular chapters... whoops!   
> I've been sitting on this prompt for almost two months, and I'm really sorry to those who wanted to see it! I looked back at what I had written when I originally got the requests, and it was... awful. I rewrote the whole thing, and I like it so much better.  
> I like doing these extra bonus bits, it lets me explore Sans a little more and build the world. As always, requests are taken here and at my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)!


	3. Alleyway (Chapter 22 Sans POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small snippet of what really happened in that back alley.

“Hey, Sans. I need to tell you something.”

Sans is having a good time. The two of you have been sitting in Grillby’s, just talking, and while he let you know more than he normally would tell anyone about his life in Snowdin and his thoughts and feelings, he doesn’t feel threatened. He feels pretty okay. Normally your words would cause him a little concern, but he’s actually relaxed for once. He’s sure you wouldn’t ruin this great mood of his with some terrible news or something. The two of you are here to talk about and get rid of the bad feelings you got from lunch with your parents. That seems to have been taken care of. He’s not sure what else could be going on.

Only one way to find out.

“what’s up, pal?” he asks.

You’re not looking at him. That’s a little bit of a bad sign. You look completely far away, as if in some other land altogether. You’re definitely not at Grillby’s in your head. Okay, he’ll let that cause a little bit of concern. He leans over and waves his hand in front of your face.

“hey, you ok?” You jolt, your eyes snapping to focus on his hand, and suddenly you’re back. “the magic drink might’a been a bad idea.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine. I just…” You place your elbows on the bartop and hide your slowly reddening face in your hands. “Sans, I just, um, like you. A lot. A-and I--”

“magic drink was definitely a bad idea,” he says before he can stop himself. He can feel his face doing about the same that yours is, as far as earning color goes. “you don’t mean that,” he goes on. “it’s the drink talking.”

“Wait, Sans, I’m serious.”

You’re upright and looking at him now, no longer looking embarrassed, but Sans can feel the little bit of magic in you. It’s giving you courage. He can feel that. He lets out a short, forced laugh, trying to make himself feel the way he does when he hears an excruciatingly bad joke. Nope, doesn’t work.

“it’s the drink talking,” he says.

“Sans--”

“the drink.” He’s done with this conversation. One would think that his shooting down the topic twice already would have gotten through to you. He can’t help the bitter edge to his voice, the harsh tone. You flinch, watching his eye sockets begin to dim, and he stands. It’s suddenly a little too hot in here. “i’m gonna go get some air, then we’re gonna leave.”

He can feel you begin to panic, just slightly, somewhere beyond where the magic makes the sound of your Soul become just a little fuzzy. He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets himself through the door to the kitchen. Grillby gives him an odd look as he goes, but he chooses to ignore it. He uses his magic to swing open the heavy door that leads outside, then steps out. It’s getting dark out here. The single light next to the door makes it a little easier to see, at least in the small radius of light it creates. It’s just a little circle. Sans leans against the brick wall and releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You weren’t really serious about that, were you?

No, you couldn’t be. There had to be something else to it. Something that is making you think that you like him in a way that you don’t. There’s no reason for him to believe any of this. Not even if he kind of wants to. Not even if he kind of hopes that you’re serious, just a little bit. It’s been a long time - a lot of timelines - since he’s even considered something romantic with anyone, but this timeline… this one is different, this one is an anomaly in and of itself and he kind of really wants to see how things go if he doesn’t play it safe.

But he can’t treat your feelings as an experiment. 

Well, he could. He would be a liar if he said he’d never done that to someone, that he’d never decided to play out the act of a happy relationship just to see how they worked, just to see how the other person reacted to things that he said or did. He ruined that relationship. It didn’t matter what he did or said. The timeline got reset anyhow. The other person didn’t remember a single thing, didn’t even have an inkling of what happened before, even if Sans hinted at it. 

He’s not sure that this timeline will actually reset, though. The kid promised him that there would be no more resets, even if something really bad happened. They haven’t even been loading any of their saves, though he can feel them save from time to time. Regardless, there’s no way for him to erase things he might say or do wrong when it comes to you, so it’s better to play it safe and just stay away, right?

He doesn’t like thinking about that. 

He starts pacing, making a small track around the outer edge of the light. He just needs to get centered, he just needs to work on getting himself back together enough to bring you back home. He needs to get you home so that he can get himself to his home and lay in bed and try to figure out a way to work through this “the human friend that we made has feelings for me” thing so that he can set things straight for this timeline and let himself be in a situation he’s okay with. He doesn’t need to fuck things up for you, not any more than he thinks he already has. You’re something weird and special to him, sure, but--

There’s a shattering pain in his chest. He can feel something heavy seeping through his shirt, staining it. Marrow. He can feel himself break apart, start to dust, but… What the hell? He’s not going out like this, not to someone he didn’t even see. He has to get you home.

That’s it. He focuses on that. He has to get you home.

He stumbles back a little farther into the dark, feeling himself fall on his ass with a solid  _ thump _ . He’s starting to feel numb, but no. You’re inside, waiting. He has to get you home.

Dusty black sneakers come into view, just barely. He looks up, finding himself having holes burned into him by the empty black eyes of a Froggit shaped mask. The wearer grabs him by the back of his hood, dragging him back further into the darkness.

“She’ll come out in a second,” a voice says, quiet and hard to make out. “She’ll be looking for you.”

As if on cue, the back door of Grillby’s swings open with a little difficulty. There’s you looking around, looking worried, frazzled. 

“Sans? Where’d you go?” you call out, your voice laced with every ounce of concern etched across your face, every ounce coming from your Soul in waves. 

“Let’s see what she thinks,” Froggit Face finishes.

Sans stares at them for a long moment before he can feel himself be lifted and dragged further into the light. Your Soul stills, he can feel that. He can feel your fear. With what feels like great effort, Sans barely recognizes that he’s been thrown into the middle of the light. You stand there, frozen, your fingers jumping up to cover your mouth.

He has to hold on. He has to get you home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no /real/ content coming out this week, but I've been sitting on this request for two months and I haven't touched it until now. It's short, but it helped to get me back into the mindset for writing.  
> I'm always open to requests and suggestions!   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	4. Hope (Ch 23 Sans POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that one time Sans almost died and then acted really weird and held Reader's hand?  
> Here's that chapter again, but from his point of view  
> Hopefully it raises more questions than it answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this is edited because I'm lazy

It takes a little bit of coaxing to convince you to go get Grillby.

You don’t actually go into the bar to get him, though. You shout through the back door to the front of the bar. There’s an urgency in your voice that scares him a little. Sans’ head feels fuzzy. His whole self feels fuzzy. And yet he’s never felt such a strong need to stick around. There’s never been a timeline where he could hold on for more than a few seconds. Now he’s going on for a few minutes.

Grillby touches your arm as he passes you. Sans feels a twinge of pain in your Soul - when did he tune in to what you’re feeling? - that you immediately shove down. You’re far too worried about him to care. 

Grillby says something to you as he lifts Sans into his arms. He’s too warm but it’s almost nice at the same time as it’s uncomfortable and for a second, Sans is terrified that you’re about to walk away from him, that you’ll leave his line of sight, and he can’t have that, Grillby can’t send you away, he-- 

You pull your phone from your bag and make a call, staying right where you were. Sans relaxes just a little.

The hushed conversation you’re having is very quick. He watches you step aside to let Grillby back into the bar. The fire elemental clears a counter by sweeping his arm over it. Sets Sans down on it. 

Sans feels like he’s about to dust.

He realizes that he probably shouldn’t be familiar with how that feels. 

Grillby goes to the front of the bar, and you stay. You look so sad, so shaken, your face completely betraying the emotions he feels in your Soul. You walk over to him, seeming to inspect him a little closer. So scared, so upset. Full of self-loathing. You’re blaming yourself for this.

“hey, kid.”

He can’t help but grin as he feels himself deteriorating. He knew this timeline wouldn’t last. Still, he holds out his hand to you. You look very apprehensive, but you take it, jolting a little on contact. Sans wonders what his bones might feel like right now. He does what he can to lace his fingers with yours, a feat that takes a moment but makes him feel a little more secure. A gentle squeeze to your hand makes you make a small sputtering sound and start to cry. 

The oddest thing about this is that keeping in contact with you makes him feel a little less like he’s literally crumbling. He vaguely wishes that he had time to investigate this, to come up with some kind of short term study so he could figure out why.

“i’m still here,” he croaks, his voice close to a whisper. “i’ll be fine.” 

The rush of near anger that courses through you at that statement amuses him. Both of you know he’s not fine. Still, somehow feeling emotion from you is… helping? He should make you talk. He should make you promise things for the future, make you feel something positive. 

With somewhat renewed strength, he takes a breath and says, “what you said earlier? tell me that again later.” 

He’s almost starting to feel a little better. How strange.

There’s a small surge of hope within you, but you squash it down, just a bit. Even weirder. It’s like you’re trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s about to die, even though something is telling him that he’s not going to. He thinks about telling you that, but is distracted by you carefully squeezing his hand in return. 

There’s nothing he can say to you now. Nothing feels like the right way to go.

There’s a few moments of silence. Sans hears the familiar bell of the front door chiming before he manages to feel his brother’s presence enter the bar. Super weird. Normally he would feel him before he’s even in front of the building. Papyrus comes into the back, looking oddly calm but his Soul screaming otherwise, followed closely by Grillby. As Papyrus approaches, you try to retract your hand and step away. 

No no no no no don’t let go, you can’t, Sans holds fast and you only manage to take a step to the side. 

“Brother, you must be more careful.” His little brother’s voice is laced with every ounce of pain that his Soul is filled with. It hurts Sans. Papyrus should never be so worried for him.

He tries to seem reassuring with a slow wink. “heh, i know.” 

Papyrus makes an almost annoyed face at him before reaching out his ungloved hands to lift his shirt up. Sans watches you avert your eyes then, slowly, return them to his ribcage in time to see Papyrus lightly trace one of the cracks with the tip of his finger. It’s an unspoken warning of what’s about to happen. Even though Sans readies himself for the searing pain that accompanies Papyrus pressing his palm to him and letting his magic do its thing, he winces. It’s hard to ignore the slow shifting of his bones back into place, healing. He feels a little more… put together. Is there a pun there? Could he  _ make _ it a pun? The process of forcing bones to heal is too painful for him to properly come up with jokes. He just lets it happen.

When Papyrus walks away, he’s talking, but Sans isn’t really listening. He doesn’t think it’s directed at him anyhow, though he does hear something about calling in Toriel. He only brings his attention back to the real world when it’s you standing before him, a warm cloth in hand, looking down at his ribcage as Papyrus walks away to make his own phone call. You seem to try to take your hand from him once again, trying to put the towel into your dominant hand, but Sans isn’t having it. He’s not letting go. You take in a breath and run the towel over the outside of his uppermost ribs. 

Oh. He did  _ not _ expect that to feel as nicely as it does, and the shudder that runs through him paired with the color rising on your face tells him that he has not been subtle about that revelation. Oh well. Hopefully it’s not too uncomfortable for you. He can’t stop himself from squirming a little under your ministrations. 

It takes much longer than either of you seem to want to be there for you to get him cleaned off, what with Papyrus having to rinse out the cloth for you five or six times since Sans blatantly refuses to let go. You’re working as kind of an anchor for him right now, something tying him to the miraculous reality that  _ he hasn’t dusted yet _ . Instead of focusing on that, though, he’s busy watching the way that your eyes flick over his ribcage.

“like what you see?” he asks teasingly, keeping his voice low enough that Papyrus and Grillby wouldn’t hear. They seem to be having a conversation of their own anyhow.

“Just making sure I didn’t miss anything.”

Oh boy, if you  _ did _ miss anything, he’s never gonna let that go. He leans forward to inspect himself, prepared to find even the tiniest spot of red on his inner ribs that there’s no way you could have seen, but the warmth of flesh on his sternum is enough to make him slump back against the wall.

That is so much better than the cloth.

Your hand lingers, making him grin. He winks at you just to make sure that you know he’s caught on to that. 

“Well, you’re clean now,” you say, speaking loud enough that it summons Papyrus, who takes the cloth from you and sets it to soak in the sink. 

“when’s tori gonna get here?” he asks as Papyrus returns.

“SOON. WE MUST MOVE YOU TO THE FRONT OF THE BAR. SHE WOULD DEEM THIS,” he gestures to how Sans is sitting on the counter, the glass and spices all over the floor, “AS ANIMAL CRUELTY.”

It takes Sans a second to realize that, oh stars, his brother is poking fun at him, calling him an animal, and another second for him to decide that he thinks that’s  _ really _ funny. The only thing that manages to escape him is a snort. His brother takes another step forward and, without any warning, lifts him up and almost over his shoulder. Sans tries desperately to hold onto you, tightening his grip to a point that he’s almost certain would hurt you. You’re not tall enough to keep hold of him once Papyrus is straightened to his full height, at least not comfortably. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” you promise quietly.

Sans takes a chance, slowly letting your hand slip from his. He doesn’t immediately dust, though he does become extremely tense. Papyrus brings him into the front of the bar and sets him down in a chair near the center of the area. Sans lets himself sink in a little. He feels closer to normal, but he’s tired. He’s so tired.

You don’t come sit with him immediately. He looks over his shoulder to see you and Grillby standing in the doorway to the back of the bar, talking. It only takes about another minute for Papyrus to place another chair directly next to him and for you to emerge and take your seat, holding out your hand to catch his and interlock your fingers. He relaxes as soon as his bone comes in contact with your skin. He barely catches Papyrus giving you a thumbs up. You look over to him, and he does the same, taking in every tiny imperfection of your face and locking the sight of away in his memory. 

Your eyes start to water and you give him a weak smile that is very obviously forced.

The pain he feels in your Soul kind of hurts him, too. He winces.

“happy thoughts,” he reminds you. You look down to your lap. “hey, ‘m still here, aren’t i?” 

You mumble something, some kind of apology that he doesn’t really hear, and go back to watching him watch you. You try once to look over at Papyrus and Grillby, which makes his grip on you involuntarily tighten, bringing your attention back to him. It remains silent for maybe ten minutes, enough time that you gain a very distant look in your eyes. You jolt when the bell on the door chimes, and before Sans can look over to see who it is, he’s face to face with Toriel, who’s kneeling in front of him. Her paws are all over him.

“Oh stars, Sans, are you alright?” She begins inspecting where the fabric of his shirt is shredded.

“i’m ok,” he says. Lightbulb. Lighten the mood. “gotta say, though, this has  _ goat  _ to be the worst bit i’ve been in.”

She looks up at him with a glare. “Sans, now is  _ not _ an appropriate time to make jokes about my appearance,” she chastises, her tone harsh and motherly. “You could have died! What would happen to Papyrus then? Sit still so that I can fix this.”

Sans feels a slight tugging as she places her paw in front of his chest, slightly more insistent as his Soul comes free. It’s just as broken as ever, the weight of the timelines past tearing it apart, but it’s holding on at a singular point, encased by his magic as if to protect it from further harm. Like that would do much good. Sans feels embarrassment rise up in you as you look in the other direction.

“How could you have let yourself get so bad?” Toriel continues, closely inspecting the damage. “And you, Grillby, Papyrus! Why did neither of you think to try feeding him? You know food can have healing properties!”

Papyrus freezes up and looks away. He doesn’t do well with being yelled at. Grillby mutters something about that not working for Sans in this situation.

Toriel tuts. “Which, I suppose, is why you called me. You are lucky that I had decided to head home early, or there would have been no way for me to arrive here in such a timely fashion.”

She lets out a heavy sigh, green magic beginning to make its way from her to his Soul. Sans can feel the crackle of healing at its finest.

There’s silence for a moment, but through the connection caused by her using her magic on him, Sans can feel her anger flare up once more.

“Of all the stupid things that  _ you _ , one of the strongest monsters in the Underground, could do, you choose being taken off guard? In a back alley? At  _ night _ ?! It was foolish to be back there in the first place. It is impossible to see anyone that might be hiding,” she says, her voice rising enough to scare him and make you jump a little. “And I have been trusting you to watch over my child and our friend? See if you get to babysit anytime soon after this. If you cannot watch your own back, how will you watch theirs?”

“tori.” 

She shushes him

“I am not angry with you for what has happened to you,” she says, quieter, gentler. “I am angry because such a thing has happened in the first place. You are a dear friend, Sans, and I would not be able to bear losing you.”

A slightly embarrassed noise escapes Sans, and the room is silent once more. It takes a while for Toriel to finish healing him, but she stands when she does, and only then do you venture to look back in his direction.

“There, all fixed. Are you feeling back to your full strength?”

“i could sleep forever.” If Papyrus ever gave him the chance. 

“YOU ALWAYS WANT TO SLEEP, BROTHER.” Sans didn’t notice his brother and Grillby walking over. “THOUGH I AM GLAD THAT YOU ARE SAFE NOW.”

Toriel straightens her back a little, a simple gesture that demands attention. “You will agree to tell us what happened, will you not?”

Sans makes himself relax a bit and takes of breath. Of course he would be asked to explain. So he does. He tells them exactly what happened once Grillby, Papyrus, and Toriel pull up chairs. You look away when it comes to what you said to make him so nervous. You take the chance to tell Toriel about the Froggit figurines in store windows. What a weird choice, using a monster as a mascot when the goal is to get rid of monsters.

“WE SHOULD HEAD HOME,” Papyrus says almost abruptly. “IT HAS BEEN A STRESSFUL DAY, AND I THINK THAT SANS SHOULD GET HIS REST.”

His brother advocating sleep for Sans? Weird.

“‘m fine, paps, tori just brought me back to normal.”

“I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU COULD SLEEP FOREVER.”

“i could do that even if i wasn’t hurt.”

“SANS.”

There it is, the normal banter. Sans chuckles and lets go of your hand as he stands. “alright, bro, we can head home. just let me take the human back home first.”

The look on your face is slightly startled. Toriel seems just as confused.

“That is not necessary. I am headed there already. It only makes sense for me to take her.”

“IT IS A BAD IDEA TO DO SUCH ADVANCED MAGIC SO SOON AFTER RECOVERING,” Papyrus adds.

“no, no, i need to. part of the, uh, friendship date.” He winks at you.

You glare at him. “I don’t think I want to go on any more friendship dates with you if they’re going to include you almost dying,” you tell him.

He offers you his hand once more with another soft chuckle. “pap, i’ll be right back to let you drive me home.” 

You almost look reluctant when you take his hand and stand with him. He pulls you in and disappears as quickly as he can, avoiding Papyrus saying anything further. He looks around Toriel’s entryway, still holding onto you as you get yourself oriented. Maybe a few seconds longer than that. 

He steps away, ignoring the sounds of Undyne and Frisk in just the other room.

“You’re going to hear about that from Paps,” you tell him quietly. “He’s not gonna be happy.”

“that’s ok.” Hands in his pockets, scuffs his slippers on the floor. He should apologize, he knows that. Tonight was supposed to be fun for you. “sorry for, uh, runnin’ out on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I should have stopped you.”

That would have made a scene, he thinks. He’d never hear of it if he went back to Grillby’s after that. “that woulda made things worse, i think.” For a second, he thinks that he can hear Undyne approaching. No, she wouldn’t be able to see the two of you. It’s too dark over here. He looks back to you. He can barely make out your face in the dark. 

Might as well take care of business while he has some semblance of courage.

“thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”  
No turning back. “for bein’ there. you made it a little bit easier for me to hold on.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And how’s that?”

How does he explain it? He’s not even sure himself. “i had to get you home,” he decides to say. It’s vague enough.

You look pretty amused. “Really? That’s it?”

“yup.” He nudges your side with his elbow and winks, unsure of what else to do or say. “see ya, pal.”

He teleports the hell out of there.

Papyrus is still waiting patiently at Grillby’s, sitting in his chair, and Toriel is nowhere to be seen. She must have left already. Sans can hear Grillby himself in the back, cleaning up the glass and the spice he had left all over the floor. Sans waves at his brother before walking to poke his head in the back. He knocks twice on the wall to get Grillby’s attention.

“thanks, pal,” he says. “i owe ya.”

Grillby flares up a little. “Pay your tab,” he suggests.

Sans can only grin. Grillby lets off an amused crackle.

“you know i’m good for it,” Sans says.

Grillby only nods, then pats Sans’ shoulder. 

“Be careful.”

“yeah, you too, grillbz.”

With that exchange taken care of, Sans heads over to his brother. 

“ready?” 

Papyrus stands, uncharacteristically silent, before kneeling and pulling his older brother into a hug. Sans, for once, doesn’t hesitate in reciprocating.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he says, quiet as a mouse. “I do not know what I would do if you were gone.”

“i know, bro. i’m sorry.”

They stay like that for a long moment.

“Let’s go home.”

“yeah.” 

The brothers leave through the front door and get into Papyrus’ car.

“You know, brother,” Papyrus starts tentatively. “It’s… rude to walk away when a potential datemate professes their undying love for you. You should text her and apologize immediately.”

“pap, how did you--”

“I am not as naive as you think,” he says, almost a little haughtily. “I know what the two of you feel for each other. It is obvious on first glance.”

“i already apologized to her.”

“Think of something to say that will acknowledge her feelings then. Honestly, Sans, dating is not that hard. Take the advice of Master Dater Papyrus!”

“can’t argue with your expertise, bro.”

Sans pulls his phone from his pocket and spends a minute trying to think of what to say.

**Sans (10:07pm): i know it wasn’t the drink talkin earlier.**

There. That acknowledges your feelings, right? 

He waits for a couple of minutes for his phone to go off. Why is he so excited for a response? 

Wait. There it is.

**You (10:11pm): I’ll still tell you again later.**

He can’t help but smile at that. 

“When we get home,” Papyrus says, glancing quickly at Sans before returning his eyes to the road, “you and I are going to go through my master dating handbook to prepare you for the future.”

“...pap, no.”

“Yes.” 

There’s no arguing with his expertise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)  
>  Don't forget that I take requests for these extra chapters.   
> Also don't forget that they can be silly non-canon drabbles, too. Or anyone's point of view on anything.   
> Like maybe I'll write something with Undyne and Alphys at home. That sounds fun


	5. The Mark™ (Ch 24 Sans POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time Sans got drunk and bit Reader?  
> This is that bit, but from his point of view.

This is Undyne’s fault, he thinks, setting the glass down on the table. You’re watching him carefully, as if making sure he won’t pick up the bottle again. Wasn’t it full when it got here? No, that can’t be right. There isn’t a lot left. Undyne probably had some before she thought to bring it over.

No, some rational part of him says, it was full and unopened when she brought it out.

You’re drunk, it tells him. 

She’s worried for you, it tells him.

Oh. You’re here.

He forgot about you for a second.

And suddenly his mind is clouded with thoughts of you and things he could never say sober and he feels the strongest need to just  _ fess up _ to everything that’s ever gone on in his head pertaining to you. He hums in thought. It’s a good idea, while he’s got the courage. You had used liquid courage before, at Grillby’s, to confess to him, right? He can do the same to you. He can tell you what he knows you want - no,  _ need  _ \- to hear. 

“y’know,” he starts. Stops. He needs to look at you while he does this. He needs you to see how he feels. He can show you. He gets on his knees on the couch and looks at you. You look a bit confused. “y’know,” he continues, “i’d like it if i could tell ya what i think ‘a ya.”

You turn your whole body to face him, your feet up on the couch between his knees. He’s not sure which part of his mind is reading that as an invitation but he takes the chance to lean forward over you and hold your chin between his thumb and finger. He braces himself on the arm of the couch behind you with his other hand.

There’s a glint in your eye. Is that… fear? It’s definitely not discomfort, but it looks like fear. He doesn’t want to scare you.

But he doesn’t have much control over his mouth.

“i wanna tell ya how cute ya look right now. so scared. so unsure a’ what i’m gonna do. it’s perfect.”

He moves his head down to press his teeth lightly against your neck. You smell so good, especially right here. He’s always liked how you smell. Sweet and warm and happy. It’s a happy smell. He moves his hand from your chin to your hip and presses his thumb into it, rubbing in small circles. You’re soft. The rational part of his mind can do nothing from his materialized tongue from trailing up your neck.

You don’t say anything. 

“i can’t be jealous without ya gettin’ mad,” he murmurs. “i can’t have a bad feelin’ about someone without bein’ _called_ jealous. can’t be near ya without bein’ accused ‘a claimin’ ya.” The thought amuses him, but something about the idea isn’t so bad. “y’know, babe,” he tries, “maybe they’re right. what would ya do if ya found out i _did_ claim ya?”  
He leans back a little to look at you. You don’t give him any kind of response. Behind your eyes he can see your mind working, thinking, registering everything he’s saying, but your mouth doesn’t move. You don’t say anything.

How far does he have to push you to get your usual witty responses and biting arguments?

He likes it when you give him a hard time.

She had no issues talking to that new guy, a small part of his mind whispers. 

She seemed interested in him, it whispers.

He seemed interested in her, it whispers.

You  _ have _ kind of already laid claim on her, haven’t you? It whispers.

His tongue ghosts over his teeth. Puts his teeth close to your neck again.

“maybe i should mark ya, so nobody gets any ideas.”

He nips a path down your neck to your shoulder, his mind singularly intent on erasing the way that blond kid looked at you, the way he talked to you, the way you talked back. You should have paid him no attention, he thinks. There was no way he was going to let that kid think he had a shot, not with you, not with  _ his human _ \--

He bites down, your body reacts. His mind is going fuzzy. He runs his tongue over where he bit before going in once more for good measure. You make a quiet sound, one that makes his Soul stutter. You  _ liked _ that, he thinks.

He leans back, the tiny portion of his rational mind deeming that enough is enough, leave the poor girl alone. 

“so pretty,” he whispers. You’re so pretty. He can see where a bruise is going to form. Good.

He leans into your shoulder. You’re going to be pissed in the morning.

And he’s not going to remember any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you guys this one would be significantly shorter than the last.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	6. Halloween Special!!!! Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm hype for Halloween and I have a lot of ideas but this is all I had time to do before class started so MULTIPLE PARTS

“Absolutely not.”

You look at the costume offered to you by Nolan, who’s busy wagging his eyebrows at you.

"Why not? Bone Daddy will dig it.”

“Please don’t call him Bone Daddy.”

“You don’t call him that when you’re fucking like rabbits?”

“Nolan please.”

At least Spencer cuts in when he’s needed.

“It’s their first Halloween surface-side. You have to show them a good time!” Nolan says.

It’s true. The monsters haven’t been on the surface for even a year yet, and while there’s still tension surrounding the Gaster issue, you and your human friends are determined to make Halloween a fun time for all of your monster companions. It took you weeks to explain the history behind it and how it evolved into what it is now, and it took the monsters a long time to figure out how dressing up as something you’re not could be fun, but they’re finally on board, and you’re all throwing a party at Toriel’s place.

But that absolutely does not mean you’re going to let Nolan dress you in this skimpy crop top and tutu trying to call itself a “sexy skeleton ensemble”.

“I don’t need that for a good party. I could go as something cool.”

“You’re so boring,” Nolan complains.

“Yeah, I am,” you say. “And I’m happy with that. Besides, if I end up being the one to take Frisk trick or treating, I’d rather be warm. It’ll be cold at night.”

“Ever so practical,” Nolan grumbles.

“I’m on her side,” Spencer says. He’s gathered up the remains of what he needs for a cowboy outfit and is holding the items in his arms, refusing to go find a shopping basket.

“You’re both zero fun. If Kendra were here, she’d be against me, too.”

“You could be a sexy skeleton if you wanted,” you offer. “I won’t stop you.”

“I’ll steal your boyfriend,” he threatens.

Spencer pouts.

“Not my boyfriend,” you correct him.

“Technically.”

“Might as well be.”

You glare playfully at the two of them and sigh. “I’ll find something. Maybe I’ll look for some ideas online.”

“Boring!” Nolan chastises. “I’ll buy this in case all of your plans fall through. And I’ll sabotage your plans as best I can.”

You can’t help but laugh. Your friends are something.

You’re so excited for Halloween. 


End file.
